


Large Mocha, Please

by stardust_and_sunlight



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: (was Maura16), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, So much blushing, coffee shop AU, cute nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 23:52:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4157682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardust_and_sunlight/pseuds/stardust_and_sunlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Today your barista is:<br/>1. Hella fucking gay<br/>2. Desperately single<br/>We would recommend:<br/>That you tip with your number!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Large Mocha, Please

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even remember when I saw this sign but I liked it, and here we are.  
> Hope you all like this daft fic!

Éponine liked working at the Musain. It was a small, cosy shop, not part of a chain, but always relatively busy. They made proper coffees and teas, sold homemade cakes and sandwiches, and had a constant stream of customers. 

So she didn't mind the work, but her co-workers were a whole other story. They were some of her best friends and sometimes, she loved them to bits. Sometimes, she felt like smacking them over the head. 

Grantaire was one of her closest friends and she loved him, she really did, but he and Enjolras had been dancing around each other for _months_ and the sexual tension frequently threatened to kill them all. But Grantaire had no understanding of his own self worth, and refused to believe that Enjolras could like him. And Enjolras was pretty shit when it came to feelings. 

Sometimes Éponine just wanted to knock their heads together and lock them in a cupboard until they worked it out. 

And then there was Combeferre, calm, level-headed Combeferre who couldn't even talk to the exuberant boy who delivered their supplies. Courfeyrac was lovely, and Éponine knew he'd be great for Combeferre, but Ferre would never make the first move. 

But for all that Éponine mocked her co-workers' love lives- or lack thereof- she wasn't any better herself. The last person she'd dated for more than a month was _Marius_ , for fuck's sake, and that had been over a year ago. Because close on the heels of the realisation that she was gay came the realisation that apparently there were hardly any gay girls around here. Or certainly none who made themselves known to her.

But she was fine. She had her friends and her work and she was fine. And she didn't appreciate attempts to set her up with people (cough _Grantaire_ cough). 

She was just not secure enough with herself, not confident enough despite the show she put on, to go to clubs or LGBT+ gatherings, and she was _fine_ being single. Relationships weren’t the be-all-and-end-all, she knew that, and besides, she was busy.

But apparently her co-workers had other ideas, and they had tried to set her up many, many times. Blind dates, online profiles, friends of friends (although that hadn't been a total bust- that was how she'd met Musichetta, and then how they'd all met Joly and Bossuet, and how the three of them became part of their group of friends), and various other plans that she was sure they had concocted while drunk. 

Needless to say, none of their plans had ever worked. But they kept trying, and she didn't really have the heart to tell them to stop. It was flattering, kind of. And she would never admit it out loud, but it gave her a warm feeling, to know that they cared. 

Two hours into her shift on one particularly rainy and dull- and of course, an exceptionally busy- Monday morning, though, she was feeling no warm thoughts at all. None. Grantaire was in the back, baking or something, the lucky bastard, and Éponine and Enjolras were working the front. And no less than ten girls had given her their numbers. _Ten_. 

And oh, Éponine was so pissed off. She'd been complimented the first time, she'd been happy- because she'd actually had time to do her makeup today and her hair looked good and she knew she looked great in this top- but the more it happened, the more it hurt. Because this didn't feel _sincere_ and oh, it _hurt_. She wasn't kidding herself- she by herself wasn't enough to draw the attention of this many random girls and why wouldn't her friends just _stop?!_

She got angrier and angrier by the minute, slamming around making drinks, almost smashing a cup in her annoyance. Grantaire emerged from the kitchen with a tray of cookies and she could see him and Enjolras muttering worriedly to each other, but she didn't care. She had had enough. And damn it she would get to the bottom of this if it killed her- or preferably Grantaire. 

Someone approached the counter and Éponine pasted a smile on her face. "Hi can I help you?"

The girl smiled. "Large mocha, please," she said, "and also would you like to go out for dinner with me?"

Éponine stopped what she was doing, staring at the girl, who blushed. "What?"

"I just mean... Because the sign says... But I don't like just handing people my number, it's so impersonal..."

Éponine snatched at the blackboard they used to show the specials and growled in anger at the words written there, clearly in Grantaire's writing. 

"Today your barista is:  
1\. Hella fucking gay  
2\. Desperately single  
We would recommend:  
That you tip with your number!"

She slammed the blackboard back down, cursing under her breath. 

"Oh I'm sorry," said the girl, sounding worried. "I just thought it was you? Because the blond haired man and the black haired one are together and I didn't see anyone else?"

Éponine stared at her, and the girl stared back earnestly. She looked like a fucking storybook princess, all pale skin and blue eyes and blonde hair. 

"Enjolras and Grantaire aren't together..." She said slowly, and the girl blushed again. For fuck's sake, could she be any cuter? She was wearing a jumper with a _cat_ on it. 

"Oh. Well, they should be," she said. 

Éponine smiled in agreement, and then startled. "Oh, I'm sorry! Mocha, right?”

"Oh yes, thank you," the girl beamed. 

Éponine turned around, quickly making the girl's drink. 

"I'm sorry," the girl said quietly. "I never would have said anything if I knew you would take it badly. It's just that I've seen you here quite a lot and I've just never had the courage to talk to you. I guess I just thought I'd take this opportunity..." Her voice trailed off and she ducked her head, fiddling with a loose thread on her jumper. 

Éponine turned to stare at her. "You really want to go on a date with _me_?" she asked, surprise colouring her words. 

The girl nodded, lips curling in a small smile. 

"Huh," Éponine said, temporarily lost for words. 

"I'm Cosette," the girl said, stretching out her hand. 

Éponine shook it, smiling. "I'm Éponine."

Cosette laughed. "I know," she said, eyes twinkling (actually twinkling. It was quite something). "You're wearing a name badge."

Éponine blushed. "Oh yeah," she said, looking down. God, why was she so _awkward..._

They stood there for a minute, just looking at each other, smiling dopily, and then Éponine remembered with a start that she did actually work here. "Your mocha!" she said, whirling around and grabbing it. "Sorry."

Cosette smiled sweetly, paying for the coffee and taking the cup. "Thank you," she said, and then turned to leave. 

"Wait!" Éponine almost shouted. Cosette turned back around, raising an eyebrow. "I'd like to go to dinner sometime," she said, and was gratified when Cosette beamed. 

She grabbed the marker pen sitting by the till, and Cosette handed her back the coffee. Éponine quickly scrawled her number on the cup, making sure it was legible before drawing a tiny heart and handing it back to Cosette, who smiled and blushed. 

"I'll text you?", she asked, and Éponine nodded happily, smiling as Cosette left the shop, waving back at her. 

Grantaire sidled up to her, a tray of cookies in his hands. "So, that worked?" And then he let out a yelp of pain as she dug her heel into his foot.

“I’m not _desperately_ single,” she hissed, and he smirked at her.

“That girl was cute though, wasn’t she?”

"Don’t talk to me, I'm still angry," she warned, but she was grinning. 


End file.
